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Maybe that’s why I can’t grieve her. I’m too busy feeling wounded that she left me. She was supposed to see me grow up. Watch me graduate. Be at my wedding. Explore this mountainside herself at sunset.
The tears that have eluded me well up in my throat, choking me, suffocating me. There’s a pressure in my chest so great I swear it will burst. My lower lip trembles.
And then…nothing.
I swallow it back down.
So close.
But how pathetic that it was brought on by self-pity rather than something more altruistic.
I suck.
I return my attention to Abe, who is making “Uh-huh” and other affirmative noises.
“Are you serious?” he asks. “Do you know the combination?” He returns to the living room and shoves the sofa over like it’s not a huge, heavy piece of furniture. He flips back the area rug. “Yeah, I see it.”
I crane my neck to see what he’s looking at. He pulls up a trap door and reaches in, rotating his wrist. The light whir of a dial reaches my ears.
It must be a safe. Sure enough, there’s a clicking sound, and he pulls a heavy metal door open.
“Got it.” Abe pulls out a neatly wrapped stack of twenties and thumbs through it. “Let me know. Thank you. Don’t tell Dad, okay?” So it is his real brother. “Promise? Thanks.”
Abe ends the call and pulls a pistol out of the safe. It looks old-fashioned–like the kind in Wild West movies. A six-shooter, or something.
Alarm bells go off in my head. Is he going to kill me and bury my body out here somewhere?
“What’s that for?”
Abe opens the chamber and looks inside then holds his hand out to catch six bullets. When he lifts his head, his eyes seem to glow.
Chapter Six
Lauren
My mind leaps irrationally to Abe Oakley is going to kill me.
My body responds with another massive dose of adrenaline, making my heart pound and my legs twitch and strain against the tape around my ankles.
Abe continually provokes actual feels in my body.
I see a trace of amusement on his cocky face. “Relax, Pearls. It’s not for you.”
“Who’s it for?” My voice raises in pitch. “What’s your plan, here, Abe?”
He reloads the gun and tucks it in the back waistband of his jeans. He stands and puts on a t-shirt, then counts the money.
His phone rings, and he answers. It must be his brother calling back. After a few short Okays and Got its, Abe thanks whoever it is and ends the call.
My iPhone beeps with a message. We both look at where it sits on the end table in the turquoise glitter case.
“That will be Lincoln,” I tell him in a rush. “He’s going to freak out if I don’t come home soon. He’s probably already freaking because I didn’t answer his last text.”
Abe drops the bullets in his pocket and pushes a hand through his hair. He seems different than he is at school. Less sure of himself. Still an asshole but without the derisive edge. This is him without so much swagger.
“Yeah, that’s the thing.” He looks at me. His eyes are gray blue–a darker version than his wolf’s. “It’ll be a couple hours–maybe three. So what can you tell him that he would believe?”
I stare at Abe. Does he really think I’m going to help him out here? Why would I? I’m literally the captive.
